


Doll House

by frogfarm



Category: Dollhouse, House M.D.
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5259998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-"No Reason". Adelle and Cuddy join forces to bring House out of his coma using untraditional methods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doll House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beer_good](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beer_good/gifts).



"I did not ask for your opinion, Mister Brink. Simply for the facts. Can you do it?"

"Maybe! I mean -- of course I can scan a coma patient! But, making an imprint that's not in a coma, that's..."

"Impossible?"

"...a lot of work! And theoretical, untested --"

"Trailblazing. Pioneering." Adelle pours a whiskey, surprising Topher by handing it to him. "And a charitable cause. The sort you love best."

"Will you watch my back for arrows?"

"Stop being so bloody melodramatic and have a snort."

* * *

It makes it easier that the necessary equipment has already been installed at Princeton-Plainsborough as of four months ago, courtesy of Rossum's recent expansion. Adelle refrains from the obvious and unnecessary statement that if only Lisa had availed herself of the technology beforehand, they wouldn't be sitting around worrying about neural resolution and retrograde autophagy.

"You're saying I should have scanned him." Lisa shakes her head. "And explained it how?"

"Standard MRI?" As usual Topher isn't looking at her, utterly absorbed in the contents of his terminal. "Cat scan, puppy scan..."

"The man can smell bullshit a mile away." She eyes the badge dangling from Topher's scrub pocket, bearing his proud smile and fake identity. "Just be glad he's not around. You might be able to fool the rest of these guys, but he'd know in a second something was up."

"An intuitive thinker." Topher nods as he makes another microadjustment to the emerging pattern onscreen. "Those are the worst kind."

* * *

"Now the only question that remains is which doll to use."

Lisa frowns. "Aren't they all the same? Isn't that the idea?"

"Hardly." Adelle bestows an indulgent smile. "In practice we find quite distinct variability in aptitude. You will want someone who can look the part, whose body does not...conflict with the man who finds himself in it. He will have enough other things to worry about without concerning himself with such matters."

"I still can't believe you're doing this --"

"You say the only one who can save Greg is himself. I believe you." Adelle raises her glass, smoothly switching subjects. "I recommend Victor."

"The one I met the other day? The doctor you brought in?" Lisa shakes her head again. "I'm still trying to process the fact that he's a doll, too."

"And one of our best. I want him out of the house -- working, doing some good."

Lisa peers at her old friend. "Do I detect a sour note?"

"If you must know, I'm hoping you'll sleep together." Adelle's smile is only slightly strained. "Now let's discuss logistics."

"Of sleeping together?"

"Of resurrection."

* * *

"So you're saying it's permanent."

"Much as it pains me to say it, yes." House glares at her before his gaze softens. "We were just too late. I can't even say if a few days would have made any difference."

"You're trying to make me feel better." Lisa looks out the window, across the way into Wilson's office, where its owner is breaking similar bad news to an oncology patient.

"I'm trying to tell the truth. Like always." House scowls down at his outstretched leg, rolling the foam rubber ball back and forth over the muscle. The psychosomatic pain is gone, but he's mistrustful of its return, ready to start gobbling Vicodin if they give him half a chance.

"It's all right." She manages a smile. "I know you did your best. Like always."

House -- Victor -- heaves himself out of his chair. The cane is still ever-present, more than a mere affectation in his present condition.

"That last week -- the one I don't remember." He looks directly at her, disarmingly casual. "I don't suppose my last words to you were anything good?"

This time, the smile feels more natural.

"I have no idea."


End file.
